


Casualties

by Elisexyz



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: (He gets one ofc), (Or technically in the middle of Episode 1), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Judd Ryder Needs A Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Season/Series 01, Some Self-Deprecating Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-23
Updated: 2021-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-24 06:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30068073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: It's allwrong, and it makes him angry.
Relationships: Grace Ryder/Judd Ryder (9-1-1 Lone Star)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 8





	Casualties

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this came from, I just felt like writing them LOL. Enjoy!

He is going to dig a hole in the floor if he keeps this up.

The realization doesn’t stop him from pacing, anger still burning in his chest even as shame regularly resurfaces to twist his stomach in intricate knots. His throat burns, if with rising bile or suffocated screams he isn’t sure, and he _knows_ that pacing won’t make it better, won’t calm him down any, that being alone in an empty room, door closed and Grace on the other side of the house, is _not_ what he needs—he wants her close, to hold him and soothe all of his pain away, but she _can’t_ , she doesn’t _get_ it—

He never should have yelled at her, that much he knows. She doesn’t deserve it. She’s trying.

Yet it’s not _enough_ , and he’s angry, because it _should_ be enough: his family was wiped away in the blink of an eye, he had time to panic and shout after them and next thing he knew he was waking up to a world without them, how comes that he doesn’t even get to keep his wife? She’s always understood him best, and now it’s just—it’s all _wrong_ , and it makes him angry.

She didn’t strike back, when he raised his voice the way he never should have, she only crossed her arms and stared at him before nodding. “I will be in the kitchen,” she’d said, evenly. “Come find me when you are feeling like yourself again.”

It stung, it _still_ stings, because this _is_ him, this—except it’s not, because he never would have yelled at her before. Add that to the list of things that one stupid bad call took from him: his fucking _decency_.

He knows he should wait until he’s completely calm, until he’s walked off all of this and he can at least _pretend_ to be alright – there is supposed to be no pretending between them, there never has been, he doesn’t _want_ there to be any, but surely an exception must be made when not pretending means hurting her, right? –, but the room is too small and too quiet, his chest aches like all of his ribs are bruised, and the pit opening up in his stomach is going to swallow him whole if he keeps thinking in circles.

He bolts out of the door without thinking it over any further, big strides carrying him out, through the hallway and to the kitchen, where his steps falter as he catches sight of Grace.

She turns to him, eyebrows raised. “Are you feeling any better, sweetheart?”

He swallows heavily, everything in him aching with how much he wants to move closer and touch her, he just—he isn’t sure that he _should_. “Yeah,” he gets out, his voice low. Then, quickly: “I’m sorry, Grace, I wasn’t—I wasn’t mad at you, you know—”

He hopes she does, because he isn’t sure how to explain it.

“I know,” she says, softly, and he believes her at least a little bit. She’s the one who begins stepping towards him, and he somehow stays rooted in place, his eyes burning like wildfire and his fingers aching. “I still appreciate you saying it,” she adds, when she’s standing right in front of him. Her hands land on his arms, giving him an encouraging squeeze, and he can’t help taking a tiny step forward, all but collapsing on her when she tugs him in her direction as an invitation.

Hugs can’t fix much of anything, but they are _something_ , they are home, and he really did need to go home right now, to be reminded that some things haven’t really changed all that much.

Grace holds him tight and stands solid against him until he’s done shaking and he finds enough will to pull away, his hands lingering on her hips like he’s afraid she’ll run the moment he lets go.

She pries his fingers way from her with some gentle prodding, sliding her hand into his right after. “Come help me with dinner, will you?” she says, like nothing is amiss and she hasn’t noticed his eyes glistering.

He doesn’t much trust himself to speak right now, but he nods, and when she starts walking he follows.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates comments, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


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